


Don't Scare Me Like That

by totalizzyness



Series: 00Q Prompts [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Prompt Fic, Q gets knocked about a bit, i can't write hurt/comfort so slapped in some humour to lighten to mood, sort of pre-slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totalizzyness/pseuds/totalizzyness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Prompt: Q is held hostage and Bond saves him. h/c</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Scare Me Like That

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Don't Scare Me Like That](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089340) by [AprilforSpring](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AprilforSpring/pseuds/AprilforSpring)



Q felt like a prize idiot. How did he not see it coming? Valuable asset to the British Government; technological genius with the ability to hack in to the deepest darkest secrets of any organisation, and the self-defense skills of a baby weasel.

That’s not to say he didn’t try to put up a fight when a bulky pair of arms wrapped around his waist and a leather-gloved hand covered his mouth. But flailing and kicking wildly didn’t do much when a blunt object connects sharply with first your back, and then your head. Needless to say he couldn’t put up much of a fight whilst unconscious.

When he woke he was duct-taped to a chair, a strip of tape over his mouth and his glasses missing — probably broken. He wasn’t sure what hurt the most, his pride of the throbbing headache from being assault.

He could hear three men murmuring not from from where he was sat, but couldn’t make out any actual words, his head a little fuzzy. He at least hoped this was a ransom kidnapping, and not one of those where they broadcasted his horrible, violent death over the internet to send a message. That would be… well… horrible.

After what felt like hours being strapped to the chair, a man in a leather jacket and ski mask appeared in front of him, holding out his state-of-the-art, self-improved mobile. The duct-tape was ripped from his face, burning where it had probably torn the first layer of skin.

“Tell me how to access your phone, we need to contact someone to negotiate a ransom.”

“Oh thank God,” Q murmured; a ransom kidnapping, much better than the alternative. He was glad they were using his phone for the ransom call too, clearly the kidnappers had no clue to who he actually was. The kidnapper wiggled the phone in his face.

“Today, please.”

Q rolled his eyes, groaning at the pain that followed. “Sorry, a little woozy from the head injury you gave me, I could be concussed.”

“Just tell me the code to enter your phone!”

Q almost blurted out the actual code, and not the safety code he’d rigged to alert headquarters in case of emergency. “0-0-1-0”

The kidnapper scoffed, entering the code and wandering off. Any second now, the people who mattered at MI-6 would be getting an alert that their quartermaster had been kidnapped, and the coordinates of where he was being held.

A few moments later the kidnapper returned, forcing the phone in his face again. “Which number is it?!”

Q stared at the phone blankly, his eyes having trouble adjusting. “Huh?”

“None of the numbers are named! Which number!?”

“Oh right… No I don’t name the numbers in my phone, in case it gets stolen and someone somehow manages to access it. I have some very important numbers, as you’ve probably guess-”

He was cut off to a punch to the jaw.

“Just tell me the number, and shut up.”

Q spat out a small pool of blood, his jaw aching. “Apologies, it appears I get chatty when I’m concussed.”

“If you say one more thing that isn’t the number I need, fingers are going to be removed.”

Not the fingers, he needed his fingers. You can’t string together miles of computer code without fingers. “The number ends 6-3-1-5-5,” he sighed. The kidnapper clicked his fingers and marched off. Suddenly another kidnapper appeared with a roll of duct-tape. After taping his mouth shut again, the man unnecessarily clocked him by the side of his head, causing a black mist to descend over his eyes before he fell unconscious once more.

He was awoken to the pain of the duct-tape being torn off again, but when he cracked his eyes open it wasn’t a masked man freeing his lips.

“Bond?”

Bond sighed relievedly, cupping Q’s face in his hands. “Try not to talk too much, Q, but keep your eyes open. Stay with me.”

He moved behind Q, cutting his hands free, rubbing his thumbs over his wrists to get the blood flowing back in to them.

“I’m assuming you’ve eliminated the threat.”

“Stop talking, Q… But yes. Your little alert popped up on my phone. I was first on the scene.”

Q chuckled, his head lolling back as he stared blankly up at the warehouse ceiling. “Course you were.”

“Lucky for you, you got kidnapped whilst I’m in the country.”

“Yes, lucky me.”

Q’s feet were freed next and he suddenly found himself being picked up, his arms being draped around Bond’s neck. He grunted, unimpressed to be in the bridal hold of 007.

“How embarrassing.”

Bond snorted, tightening his hold of the quartermaster, making his way out of the warehouse. “I could just as easily sling you over my shoulder if you don’t shut up.”

Q sighed, resting his head against Bond’s shoulder, it being too much effort to hold it up. “Shutting up.”

He was gently placed down in the passenger seat of Bond’s car and strapped in, his head still throbbing. When Bond climbed in himself, he pulled Q’s face to look at him.

“How are you feeling?”

Q smiled weakly. “My head hurts.”

“Yes, you’ve got a couple of nice shiners coming along nicely, they might even butch up your appearance.”

“Fuck you.”

Bond smiled. “Just don’t fall asleep on me, Q. I need you awake and talking, here.” He passed Q a bottle of water, helping him drink it when Q’s fingers were barely able to grip it. “Come on, Q, talk to me. Tell me how incompetent I am for taking so long, scold me for always breaking the equipment, quote pi to as many points as you know.”

Q just sighed, letting his eyes slide shut as he rest his head back. “Thank you, James. For coming for me. You didn’t have to, you could have left it to one of the other agents.”

Bond scoffed. “Of course not, they wouldn’t have rescued you nearly an explosive way as I did. They would have negotiated, they wouldn’t have kicked the door down and shot everyone in the head.”

Q chuckled. “Always have to be the hero. I’m not that much of a damsel in distress, Double-Oh.”

“I know. And Q?”

“Hmm?”

“Please, don’t ever scare me like that again.”

Q cracked an eye open, smiling meekly at Bond. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”

Bond smiled back. “That’s all I ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on my Tumblr; [[link](http://the-nerdinator.tumblr.com/post/36003972556/q-felt-like-a-prize-idiot-how-did-he-not-see-it)]


End file.
